


Light Years Ahead, You & Me

by andwhatyousaid



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: :|, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, M/M, total sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 08:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18634930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andwhatyousaid/pseuds/andwhatyousaid
Summary: Chris and Sebastian film the final (revised) scenes ofAvengers: Endgame.





	Light Years Ahead, You & Me

**Author's Note:**

> Because I could not stand those last ten or so minutes after I left the theater. Offering this as a brief, hopefully soothing, entirely self-indulgent balm to anyone else who may feel a similar ache. Many gracious thanks to actual-live angel [nowthetimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowthetimes/pseuds/nowthetimes) for agreeing to give this a quick read-through. Those same gracious thanks extended to anyone choosing to read this. May we all move forward in queering this up.
> 
> Disclaimer: unfortunately, entirely fiction. Titled sourced from [A Funky Space Reincarnation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c139yqQOqGU) by Marvin Gaye.

Before they shoot the scene, Chris admits that he had teared up reading the script —he tears up at most things —but he tells Sebastian this lowly, quietly, as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear.

He’s all done up like Steve Rogers now, in all his youth and well-fitted time-traveling suit glory, and Sebastian feels himself slipping away, too, beneath the heavy jacket and the growth of his beard, the stillness and intentionality of Bucky Barnes settling over him. He tucks his long hair behind his ear. “I don’t blame you.”

“Maybe we should have practiced,” says Chris, darting a look at Sebastian, then looking out to the set, the lone bench set aside from the time-travel platform and its overlarge, hanging posts.

“Nah,” says Sebastian, coming nearer, putting his hand on Chris’s shoulder, squeezing, “It’ll be natural as anything.” He lets his hand fall down Chris's back and then away.

“You’re right,” says Chris. Now he’s looking at Sebastian again, carefully, closely, his eyes catching Sebastian's, then falling down like Sebastian's hand had down his back moments ago.

This is exactly how they’ll play it. “Jesus, hot shot,” Sebastian says, needing to look away, “Save it for the cameras.”

Chris laughs.

 

+

 

They get into position for the first part of scene, sitting together closely on the bench overlooking the water and the canopy of trees, opening for them, framing the shot. Then everyone gets real quiet, quiet enough that Sebastian can hear his own breathing, hear the echo of Chris's, like when they’re alone in the trailer together and there’s nothing except the wind outside, the rustle of the pages from their scripts, the delicate drip of the one-cup coffee maker in the corner, time seeming to stretch, both of them waiting for the other to move, like a rubber-band pulling and pulling, waiting to snap.

Now, Chris leans forward slightly to catch Sebastian’s eye, gives him this smile, the edge of his mouth quirking up. Sebastian winks back, wants to let Chris know he’s still there, too.

Then they have to begin. The sun has been setting over them for what seems to be hours; the lake, the calm, still water, reflects the smear of orange and rose.

"I'm tired, Buck," says Chris as Steve, looking out to the water, sunk into the bench, as if he's taken off a weight, and he has: the shield he passed to Sam only a few moments ago, the stones returned, the time that must’ve passed for him, even if only a few hours, that didn’t pass for Bucky, the finality of Tony’s service, all of it. "Aren't you?"

"What're you tired of?" says Sebastian as Bucky, not wanting to misunderstand, hoarse from keeping Bucky’s hope at bay.

Steve's hand, smooth and forever-young, is close enough to Bucky’s on the bench that he can feel the heat from it, the phantom touch. He had been so sure when they said goodbye a few moments ago that it'd be for a long while, but Steve came back for him. He always has, even when Bucky didn’t know he could.

Steve turns to look at him —steady, unafraid. The same look that has gotten them in and out of trouble his whole life. It's as inherently familiar as anything, maybe the first thing Bucky ever remembered, not consciously but the same way your mouth remembers to smile, or your lungs remember to breathe.

"Can't we rest for a while?" Steve asks.

Bucky lets himself smile, awkward and crooked, but real, and turns his hand palm up on the bench next to Steve, open, inviting. He thought Steve would never ask.

Steve takes in a deep, shuddering breath, and then takes Bucky’s hand, their fingers intertwining. Bucky squeezes. Steve squeezes back.

"You know I’d follow you anywhere,” says Bucky. His eyes are growing wet. He hasn’t been able to tell Steve this yet.

But when he looks away from their joined hands and into Steve’s face, Steve’s eyes are wet, too, so maybe he already knows.

“Then let’s go home,” says Steve.

 

+

 

They cut the scene, and Chris looks away from Sebastian, blowing out a long breath. “You’re gonna make me cry,” he says, accusing.

“What?” says Sebastian. “That’s all you.”

“Nope,” says Chris. “Completely your fault —I need, can someone get me a tissue? Seriously. This man,” he hooks his thumb at Sebastian and turns to the PA who runs up with a box of Kleenex, “does not pull his punches.” He blows his nose into a handful of them.

Sebastian grins at him. “How’re you gonna get through this like twenty more times?”

“The real question is,” says Chris, wiping under his eyes before someone runs up to fix his make-up, “How am I gonna get through the dance scene?”

“You don’t stand a chance,” says Sebastian, his mouth twisting as if to hide a smile.

“No,” says Chris, looking at him now, the light hitting the tops of his dyed-blonde hair, his eyes especially blue, wetness resting just beneath them at the tops of his cheeks, suddenly looking very Steve again, suddenly as if they were sucked right back into the scene. “I don’t.”

Sebastian swallows. He feels the stretch of the rubber-band, like it's pulling again, pulling and pulling, tighter and tighter, this moment expanding, waiting to snap. He tries not to flinch, waiting for it.

 

+

 

The next scene is meant to be after the wake —everyone spilled outside in the last of the dying light. The crew has tied string lighting to the trees to fill-in for what's ebbing out, and cleared the backyard; it's grown somber and peaceful, everyone together with wine glasses and drinks, bittersweet desserts, holding each other and dancing and being, a mourning and a celebration.

Sebastian remembers reading this part in the script and touching the pages with the tips of his fingers as if he could pull the words up, pick them off the page and absorb them. Chris may have shed tears, but what Sebastian didn't share back is that his heart had shuddered in his chest and he'd had to press his hand to it, though it didn't hurt exactly.

He imagines he'll tell Chris before this is over, and then he isn't so sure, once Chris enters the room, dressed down —no suit of any kind on now, just him, simple and bare in jeans and a long-sleeved black tee. Maybe, Sebastian thinks, he should hold it, until after the scene, use it.

"Hey," Chris says into his ear before they begin shooting, "it's just a scene, right?"

"Right," says Sebastian, whispering back, leaning in to find Chris's ear in return. "I trust you."

Chris grabs him and holds him close for a quick moment, and it's all Chris —the way he smells, the way he's holding Sebastian, like he's tucking him in, into his chest, breathing him in, like a blanket and security and warmth, enveloping him —and Sebastian tries to open himself in return, let him know it's all him too for a moment, not anything else. But then Chris breaks away and it does have to be someone else, so Sebastian lets it slip aside.

Sebastian knows in the editing room, they'll play the track over it, but they play _It’s Been A Long, Long Time_ while they film the first few takes, too —which he’s grateful for; it stirs a shiver up from the base of his spine, makes his stomach twist with something akin to hope and longing, makes him breathe in deeply, as if he’s trying to consume it.

Chris as Steve finds Sebastian as Bucky seated on a chair outside, framed by the string lights, nursing a modern glass of wine he can't really feel, his eyes muted as they watch other couples sway to the music.

"May I?" asks Steve, extending his hand.

If Bucky looks too closely, Steve seems almost nervous. Though it’s hard to tell with the way he’s also as determined as ever. A wry smile finds Bucky's mouth. "You sure, pal?" But he's already taking Steve's hand because he knows Steve has never not committed one-hundred percent to whatever decision he makes, hard as a cannonball.

Steve pulls Bucky up and in. “Never been more sure,” he says, “but it might help if you lead. Don't really know what I'm doing here, Buck,” he gestures with a sweep of his head to the open clearing where other couples are moving together slowly.

“You never have,” says Bucky, sharp and quick, his smile betraying his tone.

When they move hand-in-hand to the opening, room clears for them immediately, seamlessly. Bucky holds Steve carefully at first as they sway together: one hand politely in Steve's, grasping but not intertwined, and the other sat so tensely on Steve's waist, it's as if his hand is floating midair, his metal fingers stiff.

“Come on,” says Steve, breaking open, a smile blossoming. “I know you can do better than that. It's only been, what? 70 years?” He hauls Bucky closer as he says it, holding him properly, forcing Bucky to, too.

Bucky takes in a deep breath, his heart shuddering. “Steve —” he says, slowly. His fingers tighten unconsciously at Steve's waist, fisting at the fabric, feeling it between his knuckles. “I—”

Steve dips his head, and for a horrifying second, Bucky's terrified that Steve is going to kiss him right there, in front of everyone. But Steve just presses his mouth close to Bucky's ear and says gently: “I'm sorry it took me so long.” He's stroking the webbing between Bucky's fingers, softly.

Bucky fights a shiver. “It's okay,” he says, turning to say it into Steve’s ear in return. “You're home now.” He squeezes Steve’s waist. “And so am I.”

Steve pulls back to look at him, closely, knowingly, the same way he’s looked at him his whole damn life. And when Steve leans in again, more slowly this time, telegraphing his intention, Bucky isn't caught off guard, isn’t horrified at all, though his heart’s still shuddering inside; they meet in a kiss.

 

+

 

They have to do several more iterations of each moment —and by the end of it, Sebastian's eyes feel bruised and swollen, his mouth raw though there really hasn't been enough kissing to warrant it.

He finds a balcony above where they’ve been shooting, inside the house and off to a side room. He's trying to shake it off, drinking water to clear his head, though he can still feel the hot imprint of Chris's hands at the small of his back, his hips, tender, holding, pulling. He shakes his head again. Not Chris’s —Steve's hands.

Sebastian closes his eyes and sees Chris's own eyes, sharp and blue, how long his eyelashes look from up close, thinks of how pretty they must be on camera.

Then Sebastian hears Chris say, “How're you?” at the same time he feels a hand at the center of his back initially, then sliding to his shoulder, grounding and reassuring.

Sebastian has known for seven years that this is just how Chris is —he's a touchy guy. It still takes Sebastian takes a moment to open his eyes. At first he says, “Good, I’m good,” and then he chokes on his breath, lets it out in a bemused laugh. He rubs at his face. “I mean, it’s bizarre, isn’t it?”

“What?” says Chris, leaning up against the railing next to Sebastian, mirroring him. He sets one elbow against it, the rest of his body a long, lean line, one foot crossed behind the other. “This whole thing? Absolutely.”

“You know,” says Sebastian, setting his nearly empty water-bottle down on the ground,  “I wanted to tell you earlier, that last scene. When I read the script —” but then Sebastian can't find the words, it's hard to describe. He turns to face Chris fully, touches his own heart, makes a face as if to communicate it, the whole of the feeling.

“I know,” says Chris. “I get it.” He shrugs, open. Maybe Sebastian didn’t need to say it, after all.

As they look at each other from across the balcony, the both of them leaning up against the railing, Sebastian feels the same tension again. He'd thought it would have been released earlier, between all the takes, but here it is, the rubber band stretching, the moment expanding before him, his heart starting to shudder.

And the thing Bucky is too scared to say, that he could barely let himself have for fear that he didn’t deserve it —Sebastian takes it in both hands and runs with it, breaking away from the banister, moving towards Chris suddenly, pulling him in, pulling until finally he's kissing Chris again, but it's all him this time. Chris makes a noise, open at the back of his throat. He opens his arms too, tucking Sebastian in like he had before that take, into his chest, and Sebastian knows it's all Chris, too.  


End file.
